


All That You Need

by misanthropiclycanthrope



Series: Like This Forever [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misanthropiclycanthrope/pseuds/misanthropiclycanthrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unfounded doubts, pep talks, and a union.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ComeHitherAshes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeHitherAshes/gifts).



Athos scowled at his reflection in the mirror.

There was no denying he looked smart. The tailored suit, buffed shoes, and taming of his hair and scruff of beard had successfully transformed him into something less like a wild man and more like a…

Well, more like a _groom_.

And yet, something felt wrong. Having been in this position before, on the cusp of marriage, knowing what to expect, he shouldn’t be nervous, but experience had tied a knot of dread in the pit of his stomach.

“Looking good!”

D’Artagnan’s face appeared over his shoulder, grinning happily, eyes shining with excitement. Athos turned his scowl on his young friend.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look incredibly handsome,” d’Artagnan amended, undeterred by Athos’s glare as he nudged at his shoulder, encouraging him to turn around. “Well, you will do when you get your tie straight.”

Athos stood obediently still while d’Artagnan fussed with the knot of his tie, calm exterior belying the unease fluttering beneath the surface. Satisfied, d’Artagnan clapped Athos on the shoulder, only to pause, a frown creasing his brow, when he met his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Athos was grateful for the close friendship he had forged with d’Artagnan, but there were times, such as now, when he wished he could still conceal his feelings. D’Artagnan didn’t press him, but his shrewd, concerned gaze told Athos he wasn’t going to let something so potentially significant be brushed aside at such an important moment.

“I cannot shake the feeling that I will somehow mess this marriage up, as I did my last.”

D’Artagnan immediately shook his head. “That wasn’t you, Athos. It wasn’t your fault.” Athos’s unconvinced grunt had d’Artagnan forging on. “And I know how much you love Porthos, that you’d never do anything to hurt him.”

“Not intentionally, perhaps.”

“Not at all.”

His decision to propose hadn’t been made lightly. When he had discovered that marriage was something Porthos had been considering, he’d panicked, but not because he feared a repeat of the heartache he had suffered during his previous stint as a husband. The last thing he ever wanted was to put Porthos through that same pain.

Somewhen, somehow, he was bound to fuck up.

Strange thing was, Porthos understood, accepted him, flaws and all. And if Porthos had it in his heart to love him regardless, the least Athos could do in return was vow to do his utmost to make this work.

He was a better man with Porthos by his side, would be a fool to throw away what they had.

And, most importantly of all, he loved him.

D’Artagnan held his gaze until he was sure Athos agreed with his assessment, waited for Athos’s nod of confirmation, then ushered him toward the door. “Now stop being a miserable bastard, get down there, and marry him.”

Somehow, heading down the stairs to the hotel’s wedding suite no longer seemed such a difficult task.

* * * *

“Porthos, relax.”

Porthos gave a distracted grunt of acknowledgement, but his knee didn’t stop jigging up and down until Aramis laid a restraining hand over it.

“Sorry.” His mind was elsewhere, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts, each turn only leading to further confusion. He needed action, not this interminable wait that seemed intent upon driving him mad.

Aramis gave him a sympathetic smile, judging his restlessness to be a symptom of a simple case of nerves. Cold feet. “What’s on your mind?”

Many things. Everything. But didn’t it all boil down to just one question?

“You think this is what Athos really wants?”

Aramis’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course! Asked you to marry him, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” That much was true. But would Athos have ever even contemplated the option had Porthos not brought it up first? “But only after I asked ’im.”

“You did?” Aramis was now gaping at him, completely astonished. “When?”

“’Bout a month before Christmas.”

“And he said no?”

”No, he…” Porthos recalled how Athos had shut down at the proposal, barricading himself against old memories, believing Porthos to be making a mistake in wanting to tie himself to Athos for the rest of his life. “He ran away.”

“He did _what_?” Angry and affronted on Porthos’s behalf.

“He wasn’t running from _me_ ,” Porthos said quickly, hurrying to explain. “He was tryin’ to protect me.”

“Protect you from what?”

“Himself.”

Aramis nodded slowly, his anger dissipating, as the words of Athos’s proposal now began to make sense. But while his doubts cleared, new ones started crowding into Porthos’s head. He had spent so much time convincing Athos of his own worth that he hadn’t stopped to consider just how little Athos stood to gain from this union.

“What does he see in me?” It was a rare instance of self-doubt, but Porthos only wanted Athos to be happy. “What can I offer him?”

“He doesn’t want anything from you. He just wants _you_.”

“An’ I want him.” A simple truth, one it had taken time to convince Athos of, but that was undeniably, indelibly etched on Porthos’s heart.

Aramis smiled fondly, nodding sagely at the admission of a fact he had been aware of for a long time, the knowledge that the same held true for Athos. Checking his watch, he gave Porthos’s knee a pat and stood.

“Go on then.” He inclined his head toward the door of the suite, where the small gathering of their closest friends was already congregated. It was time.

“Go get him.”

* * * *

Any doubts they may have still been harbouring vanished the instant they each set eyes on the other. They may have once believed the ceremony to be an unnecessary formality, but there was something about speaking their vows and signing their names to the register in the presence of their friends and witnesses that lent their relationship a new dimension, an intangible quality that was nevertheless palpable.

Their partnership had become a union.

Once, that might have scared Athos, but he felt only a calm contentment as they were proclaimed wed. And if Porthos had been looking for unease in his eyes, there was no sign, only a smile, more brilliant and genuine for its rarity.

And with Athos by his side, Porthos couldn’t have been happier.

* * * *

Porthos found Athos out on the balcony, the breeze catching at his hair as he looked out over the sea, lost in thought. Coming up behind him, Porthos pressed a kiss to his neck and wrapped his arms around his waist. Athos sank back into the embrace, settling against Porthos’s chest.

“Penny for ’em.”

“I’m trying to discern if I feel any different. Now we are married.”

“An’ do you?”

Athos took hold of Porthos’s hand, played the pad of his thumb over the band of platinum encircling his ring finger, the twin of his own.

“Yes.”

A small flicker of uncertainty fluttered in Porthos’s breast, but it settled in the next heartbeat at the memory of Athos’s smile as he had slipped that ring into place. “Hitched?”

“Complete.”

Athos huffed a small, embarrassed laugh, cheeks flushing at how sappy that sounded, but rather than taking the piss, Porthos hummed agreement, laced his fingers with Athos’s.

“Me too.” Then, after a moment’s consideration, “ Well, _almost_ complete.”

Athos turned his head to give Porthos the full benefit of his imperiously raised eyebrow, the effect spoiled by the knowing smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Almost?”

“Yeah.” Porthos sighed, feigning regret as his free hand travelled south. “But only until I get you into that bed and this”—his hand gave a squeeze—“inside me.”

Athos’s other eyebrow joined the first, admirably retaining his calm air even if his body was responding eagerly. He turned in Porthos’s embrace, wound his arms around his middle, and brought their bodies flush together.

They had held each other this way earlier, self-consciousness fast giving way to happiness as they took to the floor for the first dance. Now, however, there was a heat building between them as Athos pressed close.

“Then what,” Athos breathed, his lips a hair’s breadth from Porthos’s, “are you waiting for?”

Porthos’s grin, joyful and predatory all at the same time, flashed briefly in the second’s pause before he surged forward, propelling Athos back inside the room even as he kissed him, fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues as the heat flared into fire.

And, in that fleeting moment before Athos’s eyes closed, Porthos saw his own emotions reflected back at him. And with that wordless declaration, he knew they had made the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Savage Garden's 'Truly Madly Deeply'.
> 
> (I eventually found the perfect song for them!)


End file.
